


you lived a life before me

by sultrygoblin



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23558062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - request - Hey! I've been loving your inglourious basterds stories. I just saw your sleep request list. Is it possible to request something with Donny waking up the reader from a nightmare, potentially with PTSD? Strange request, sorry!! Thank you!
Relationships: Donny Donowitz/Original Female Character(s), Donny Donowitz/Reader
Kudos: 15





	you lived a life before me

**Author's Note:**

> i want to say, i do not have PTSD. i have had nightmares due to my own trauma so i drew on that but i don’t imagine you go through that sorta thing and not have some lasting marks. it’s also unfortunately time appropriate so no one knows what PTSD is...it’s a bittersweet love

Back in France, she used to sleep like a rock. Few times they even thought she was dead. Till Aldo taught them to just pinch the side of her neck, which sent her jolting straight up every single damn time. Then they'd come home, the first night he'd slept like a baby and she didn't sleep, the second went the same. He'd found her after the third night passed out at the kitchen table with an empty bottle of whiskey next to her. He didn't sleep the fourth night, drank another fifth of whiskey in silence before falling asleep on the couch, at least this time he could put her in bed. She'd woken, puked, showered, and climbed right back into bed. Aldo had warned him, war wasn't particularly kind to women to begin with and to think about what happened to women on the front lines. She'd been in France before them, doing recon. On her own. He hadn't taken much time to think about it till these last couple days, what she might've been doing before they'd picked her up for Operation Kino. She was clean, her clothes were clean, hell, even her nails had been done. And she talked about all sorts of things you didn't just get from scraps of papers and maps. It makes his blood boil, they'd been riding the high of war, of fighting a Jew-hating motherfucker, and it all had to catch up with them at home. Right now they should be planning a wedding, at least that's what his mom said they should be doing, and his sisters. It hadn't seemed right to and now he knew why.

He shouldn't let her keep sleeping, if he does she won't get to sleep at all again tonight and she can't keep drinking the way she is. It'll kill her same way it did her dad if she let it. Sighing, Donny rose from the tiny table where they ate their dinner across the room and pushing the wood open. The blankets are gone, a tangled mess barely left on the bed, one corner is stubbornly wrapped around her ankle. Her face is screwed up and she's mewling. That the kind that makes him want to give her everything but the kind you hear from abandoned, starving kittens. It's the kind of fearful noise he never expected out of her. For a solid minute Donny's pretty sure he imagined it because it doesn't happen again. He steps forward, a heavier step then he meant.

Her entire body seems to throw itself into the mattress without ever moving an inch, shaking her head, trying to curl herself into a ball. Trying to disappear entirely. He doesn't know what to do. Does he wake her up? What would he even say? What if she didn't want to talk about? He thinks of that morning, seeing her slumped at the table like a drunk. There isn't anything wrong with some fun but this isn't that and he's gonna be damned if he wakes up to another morning like that anytime soon. Quietly he makes his way to the edge of the bed, kneeling beside it. She's scared, he's never seen her scared, and it makes her look so small. Softly, he holds her face in his hand. Her body twists, straining away from him but she's not. It's from whatever Nazi fucker her mind has decided to conjure up. He could just pinch her neck, like Aldo had taught him a year ago. He'd found a better way. He leaned over her, carefully not to press onto her. Slowly and gently, he brushed kisses across her face, from forehead to chin and back up again. Eventually he can feel her eyelashes flutter open against his cheek. Only then does he return to a proper kneeling position, hand still on her face.

“A lot of bad stuff happened, Donny,” her eyes trained up at the ceiling, he can already see their shiny with tears, he wonders if maybe she started crying before she ever woke up, “What if I never get better? What if you don't want me anymore?” he's never heard her voice like this, never seen her like this.

He doesn't know what to do, so he just does the best he can, “None of that's gonna happen. They're dead, doll, 'cause either I killed 'em or you did,” pressing his forehead to hers, “And no matter what, I'm still gonna want ya and I'm still gonna marry ya.”

She nodded slowly, sniffling, “I think we should talk about it.”

“I think so to,” climbing next to her on the bed and holding her tight, “Where do you want to start?”

She took a long, deep breath, then another and another, “The first time I had to do something I really didn't want to...”


End file.
